Personal Narrative #1: Meeting Grandma

I glance around my home at the abundance of eye-level skirts and slacks. There are so many legs! Feeling slightly overwhelmed, I wander over past the dining room table towards the deck. Before I can reach the slider door, I am intercepted by a woman I have never met, but have seen in pictures.
"Chelsea, this is Gandy. She is Maureen's grandmother," I am told.
"Hi," I say, knowing a greeting is expected. She bends forward and plants a smoky kiss on my head.
"Well, aren't you just the cutest thing!" I smile and look up past her seated figure to the window in the kitchen while she continues with her prattle about my hair, my dimples, and gracious, did my mommy make that pretty pink dress? The question yanks me back from my daydream and I nod yes. Another adult walks over and begins to make small talk with Gandy, so I continue on my quest to the deck. When I reach the slider, I pause knowing that the handle is too high for my short arms to reach it. I gaze through the smeared glass at the adults standing on the vast wooden porch, all of them so absorbed in apparently fascinating conversations about things that are way over my head. I press my nose to the glass, and then lean back to see the cloudy print left behind before smudging it in to match the rest of the door.
"Did you want to go out there, Hun?" A woman's voice from above floats down to my level. I look up at my future step-mom and answer "Uh-huh."
"What do you say?" Her reply is fairly predictable, and I probably should have known better than to provoke it.
"Please?"
"Good girl, watch your step," comes the response. I grin up and toss a quick "Thank you," over my shoulder as I step down onto the porch. I toddle over to the railing to my left and look through the bars, feeling like a prisoner trapped in the banter of lackluster adults. I hear footsteps approaching and I can tell by the soft tap that it is another woman in flats. I turn and my prediction is confirmed by the navy blue shoes next to my jelly sandals. I gaze upwards and cannot believe what my eyes encounter. I was not aware until this moment that a person could be so utterly elderly! I stand there with my mouth agape, my jaw so close to the wooden floor below me I am afraid I may get splinters. As I regain my composure, I say the only thing that has crossed my mind since the moment I saw her.
"You have a lot of wrinkles," the sheer amazement is obvious in my voice.
"Well, yes I suppose I do," she replies, with a soft chuckle that has underlying tones of disbelief. Before responding, I ponder what I should say next. Honesty, they tell me, is the best policy, but the look on her face leads me to believe maybe they were wrong. Nevertheless, I do not want to get in trouble for being rude, and lying to family, stranger though she may be, would certainly be considered rude. I take a deep breath and spout out my carefully calculated comment.
"You must be really old!" Instantly I regret it. Her face goes from disbelieving leniency (thanks to my age) to being completely aghast.
"I guess I am getting up there in years, yes," she says with minor agitation. Uh-oh, I think, wrong thing to say... maybe I should ask a question. Yes, that's a good idea. Tall people like that. The tell me that's how I can learn. Maybe I will learn to say things that will make her smile instead of cringe. Pleased with my quick thinking, I pose a question that is bound to get a great reaction.
"Are you going to die soon?" Her paled cheeks turn rosy and she can't help it - she smiles and even lets loose a quick giggle.
"Well I hope not! Not anytime soon," she shakes her head and turns to go back inside. I promptly think this over, and to reassure her that dying is the last thing I want her to do, I agree with a heartfelt, "Yeah...maybe on the way home then." Apparantly, the fact that this is so far away in time is very comforting to her because she begins to laugh and walks inside to regale others with my clever comments. A few minutes pass and I sit on the steps to reflect on the amount of wrinkles that lady had. She defintely has more wrinkles than I can count on my finger...and my toes...wow! I met the oldest lady in the world! I hear the slider re-open and when I look up my dad is there with the lady.
"Chelsea, I'd like you to meet your Grandmother, Eunice," he says.
"Hi, Nunu," is my excited reply! I am related to the old one! Wait 'till I tell Hannah at school! She is gonna be sooo jealous!!
Today I learned an important lesson - first impressions really do count. I'll probably pay for this one at every family gathering forever and eternity. Something tells me that my dad will never run out of excuses or opportunities to recite this story. And I don't think my family will ever stop laughing at it, either.